tired, and I didnât feel well, and I took too many pills by accident,â I said, my voice cold and toneless.
âWhat?â
âI said it was an accident. This is all a big misunderstanding. I want to speak to the consultant myself.â
âWhat?â
âYou heard me.â
âIsabel . . .â
âI need to go home and I need to be left alone, Angus.â
âSo you can try it again?â
âI never tried anything. It was an accident. I need you to stand by me in this.â
âYou want me to lie for you.â
âItâs not a lie.â
âIt is a lie! And if I do this you wonât get the help you need!â
âI will. I will,â I begged, suddenly vulnerable again. âWe can decide together what I need to do. But please, Angus, having strangers coming up to the house and phoning me is not going to help, itâs just going to upset me more.â
Angus paused. I studied his face â maybe that had been the right thing to say. Maybe I had found an opening. He looked down and then rubbed his forehead once more in a gesture so despondent it squeezed my heart.
âFine.â
âIt was an accident,â I repeated.
âYou are going to take your medication.â
âI never meant to do anything stupid.â
âYou promise meââ
âIâll promise you anything, as long as you keep them away from me.â
âJust remember, Bell.â
âWhat?â
âIf you kill yourself, youâll kill me too.â
4
Lie to me
Say you still love me
Lie to me
Â
Isabel
I had convinced Angus. We would lie together, and theyâd have to believe us. They would have to send me home and leave me alone. Not completely â I couldnât hope for that â but at least I wouldnât have people coming to see me every day.
Dr Tilden was due to see me any minute now. I struggled to open my eyes through the sedative theyâd given me. The pain in my stomach was now a dull ache. And finally, there was a knock at the door. A consultant â Dr Tilden, presumably â followed my husband into the room, and all of a sudden I felt a lot more awake. Would he agree to send me home? I blinked, trying to focus â the doctor was tall, and he seemed even taller because I was lying down, powerless. I sat up, Angus arranging the pillows behind my back. The doctor had a shirt and tie under his white coat. He and Angus spoke like I wasnât there, just like the nurse had. He mentioned therapy; yes, I had agoraphobia, which meant I couldnât get out of the house, but they could come to me.
And, of course, the medication. He could see what Iâd been prescribed . . . and he listed the poisons I was supposed to take.
âHave you been taking them?â
A pause. I could see Angus was torn between his desire to take me home, to protect me, and the impulse to tell the truth. Because that would be protecting me, too. He settled for a compromise.
âNot as regularly as she should have.â
That was my cue.
âIâm going to take them every day,â I swore. Angus looked into my eyes. I realised I was not lying any more â I realised my promise was truthful. Iâd try, Iâd try as hard as I could. For Angus. For myself.
And then, it was time for my big act.
âIt was an accident.â
âI donât think this is what it looks like,â Angus reiterated, reading once more the unspoken prayer in my gaze. âShe didnât mean for this to happen.â
Dr Tilden looked from Angus to me for a moment.
âIâd like to speak to Isabel alone, if I may?â he said.
âI would prefer it if my husband stayed,â I demanded. I wasnât going to let this doctor decide how things would play out.
Dr Tilden and Angus exchanged a look, and the consultant nodded.
âAll right. Isabel, I spoke to your husband about where we go from here. You were
Gene Wentz, B. Abell Jurus